Horatio and Helen
by Neteret
Summary: Horatio Caine is invited to let off steam.


These stories are still part of Horatio's Harem, but they are now being listed separately.

CSI: Miami

Horatio/oc

Disclaimer: I own nothing of CSI: Miami, I do not know anyone connected with the show or with CBS and they do not know me, all of which is a shame.

Kissing hungrily at Helen's mouth before she'd even had a chance to push her door closed, Horatio turned his back to the wall, pulling her into him. Feeling her kiss him in return, he roughly thrust her face away and snarled urgently, "Down. Down on your knees! Please." The last word was not a plea but simply a habit, the way he gave orders.

Her reluctance to give up her place on his lips, to relinquish her hold on him, showed in the way she slowly slid her hands over his arms, down and under the jacket skirt, to his hips. His need heightened. Bracing against the wall, he forced his breath out to the last, feeling her touch through his grey ultra-lightweight wool suit. As she sank onto her knees, he'd put his hands gently on the top of her shoulders and followed them down, trying not to push, though he wanted to. Looking down onto her dark, neatly bobbed hair, his breath came rapidly and raggedly.

As soon as she was in position, she pushed up on the mounded rise in his pants with one hand, as her fingers of the other nimbly worked the zipper over it. Catching his warm cock in her palm when it leaped from its prison, and she eagerly guided it into her open lips. Her soft tongue and throat felt relatively cool compared to the roaring flame in his dick. Horatio gasped in pleasure and almost gave in to the need of gratification, now.

But no, this isn't what he'd come for. He'd come for release, yes, but not pleasure, and not yet. He roughly grabbed either side of her head in his large hands and thrust his hips, grunting. He felt her stiffen for a moment and her distress calmed his urge to go for it then and there. Not worrying about how she did it, he slowed his movement as she made the minute adjustments that allowed her to 'take it', to encompass her mouth around most of his shaft. He watched her forehead fold into frowns and smooth, and frown again under the bangs, as she tried not to gag at his rigid mass. He didn't know and didn't care how she did it, just supremely enjoyed the sensations he was getting.

Suddenly he let go of her head and began fumbling hastily at his belt. She sat back, her eyes resting hungrily on the now glistening cap aimed at the bridge of her nose.

"Undress. On your knees, down, over there." He nodded in the direction of his favorite spot on the carpeting.

Carefully laying his jacket across the back of her brown suede Swedish modern couch, he stepped out of his pants, dropped his forest green silk shorts, and pulled off his socks. Clad only in his unbuttoned sea-blue shirt, he dropped to his knees behind her bare uplifted rear end and moved between the spread of her legs.

Crouching over her, raising his eyes to the view out the patio door, to the pale sky, he put himself into her opening and pushed as hard as he could. He hadn't checked to see if she was wet or ready in any way. As soon as he was in, he rose and grasping her waist, rapidly moved himself in and out while he kept his gaze on the sky, feeling the tip of himself flatten against her inside wall. She was barely deep enough to receive him. From the sounds of her breathing, he could tell she wasn't enjoying the process, barely tolerating it in fact, which was fine with him. His only pleasure here was that she allowed him to continue, didn't give the 'Stop' signal.

When he finished, it was with a growl that seemed to issue from the pit of his stomach. His final uncontrolled thrust had made her grunt, perhaps in pain, and he was glad the mindless wave of his own body's reaction and the subsequent near blackout blunted any response he might ordinarily have felt. He wasn't here for her. He didn't want to be anywhere for anyone right now. He just needed.

&&&

From the moment he'd first seen her, he was sure he recognized her, but couldn't place from where or when. He'd known the face as younger than the, perhaps forty years now, and in different lighting than the bland neon in the hallway outside his condo door. From the look she gave him, she'd had the same feeling, but he was on his way out, and she was supervising the moving men hauling in boxes and furniture, so neither had the opportunity to follow up until days later.

On a Saturday afternoon, she'd come to his door and asked him to please come into her apartment to help her with something. As soon as he surveyed the boxes, still unpacked in the living room, and saw the single magenta pink feather poking through a lid, he remembered who she was.

Years ago, he'd tipped her generously and often, though he'd merely appreciated her body, her sinuous movements around the dance pole, nothing more. The club he'd frequented in his early days in Miami, to his knowledge, had never been raided, had never called for the police, and, back then, had an ambience that had appealed to him. He most especially remembered how her dark lashed brown eyes sparkled in the garish lighting when she smiled. He also remembered an accent in the few words they'd exchanged.

Apparently, she'd already remembered him. Her first words, inside her apartment, brought him almost jarringly back to the present. "Are you attached to anyone? I mean do you have a lady in your life?" A bare trace of accent, Dutch, he now remembered, remained.

"Excuse me?" He only then noticed that she was wearing a wraparound dress, tied casually loose at the waist.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned. "Okay, let's do it this way. Hi, I'm your new neighbor, Helen. Remember me from the strip club from 'way back when? Hey, I'm horny, wanna screw?"

Ordinarily, Horatio would have put on his policeman's face, coldly refused her, and swiftly exited the place. Instead, he decided to see just how far this would go. After all, he didn't have protection on him so, no harm, no foul, and an interesting diversion for a lazy afternoon. He hooked his ginger eyebrows over his narrowed eyes and innocently asked, "Screw what?"

She opened her dress, showing her still magnificent naked body, said something that he couldn't remember afterwards. It turned out that she did have protection and that she truly only wanted to screw.

"Why?" he'd asked after that.

She'd propped her head onto her elbow. "Serendipitous circumstances. Me moving in here, you being you, to begin with. I remember that red mop and remember you as trustworthy, and all. As for the rest, believe me, you don't want to know my psychological history. Just know that I'm harmlessly crazy, with an addiction to occasional mindless sex. It seems to keep my demons in their places, most of the time."

She smirked. "And, from the muttering I heard from you out on your patio last night and the occasional banging of doors and, what were they, pots maybe, on the stove? Anyway, I sort of gathered your day hadn't been the best. I took a chance that maybe what you needed was what I needed."

He gave her a critical glance. "You don't sound like any exotic dancer. I've ever known."

"You mean, I don't sound stupid?" She nodded and twitched her lips. "You know the old bit about 'I'm only doing this to pay my way through school?' Well, for me it became true. I got a BA in creative writing with a minor in psychology. Now I write steamy romances and get myself horny for a living."

"Well, I'm glad to have obliged."

"Yeah, me too. But, next time, can you let go a little more?"

"Meaning?"

"It's just that I'm not looking for love so much as physical feeling. Unlike my food, which I prefer mild to bland, I prefer the sex to be spicy hot. From what I just saw of your performance a bit ago, which, was lovely, I'd say you were holding back."

He was, but how did she know?

"Don't get me wrong, it was great for a first time, but I think you have a need to let go, sometimes, and I'm pretty sure I'd love it if you did."

Having no intention of a next time, Horatio only replied, "Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

There were more invitations, each one different in time and mode, and each one ending in sex. By the third visit, he realized that she'd approached each time after he'd come home in a turmoil of emotions. One day a judge had allowed a murderer to walk free for lack of proper presentation of evidence by the State's Attorney, another, if not for kevlar, Calleigh would have been killed, and another, he'd engaged in a gun battle and had had to kill a man. On each occasion, the sex had resulted in soul wrenching release.

Finally, she'd said to him, "Next time, big man, I want you to come to me on your own. I'm tired of laying in wait, listening for how you open and close your front door or whether you bang around. I'm wasting precious writing time, listening for you." She smiled humorlessly. "You know by now, my legs are always open."

Permission, however, wasn't enough for Horatio. Next time he'd been home for a while, trying not to dwell on the god-awful frustration of a state's attorney refusing to prosecute so obviously guilty a man. Out on his patio, in the moistly warm breeze, he'd started simply by leaning on the guardrail but had ended up stepping back and bowing, trying to cool his forehead on the polished metal bar. She must have seen him like that because the next thing he knew, she was ringing his doorbell and knocking loudly.

Without waiting for invitation, she walked in, took the door from his hand, and closed it. Swinging the simple linen shift she was wearing up and over her head, she said, "What do I have to do to convince you, I want it when you're like this! Now do me, damn it!"

Anger washed over him and a black energy filled his muscles. As he fumbled at his belt and his zipper he growled, "Turn around and bend over."

That time had felt so mindlessly good, he almost began to look forward to bad days.

Sometimes he didn't go to her for a couple of months at a stretch. Once he'd banged her three times in a week. And that's all it was, too, banging her. Whenever they met in the elevator, in the lobby, they'd greet each other civilly, but otherwise seemed to have no connection. He never called her, she never came to him to borrow a cup of sugar. After each tryst, they'd seldom conversed, went their ways.

Always, when he was through with her, he would dress, step to his apartment next door, leave his clothing in a heap on his bedroom floor, and fall in bed into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sometimes, the next morning, he'd have no memory having 'done' her, only know something had occurred from the female scented stickiness on his crotch, from the 'settled' feeling in his mind.

He knew he felt better emotionally and physically, but had no clue as to what she got out of their liaisons. He knew she sometimes climaxed and, sometimes, he knew she came close to giving their pre-agreed upon 'Stop' signal. Occasionally, as he rose from whatever position he'd forced her to, she'd stand and look at him, as if she were angrily surprised, and would shake her head slowly. He sometimes thought she was about to announce that this had been her last time. Instead, she'd say nothing, and every so often, the angry look would fade into a faint smile.

&&&

One night, however, nearly a year after she'd moved in, about a week after their last time together, he heard her out on her patio, crying. Without hesitation, he called over to her, told her to go open her front door. He was afraid she wouldn't since their previous connection was only sexual. He was fully aware a woman in distress is in no mood for sex.

Apparently, she knew him better than he realized because she opened before he had a chance to knock and fell into his arms, sobbing. An aunt, she explained, her only remaining relative, had died. She'd been informed of the news just moments before. "I don't know how to feel, Horatio! I'm going to miss that wonderful old woman. She was a joy to be around, kind, sweet, and fun as all hell; was a second mother to me. It's so sad! On the other hand, I'm delighted to get so much money!"

Holding her, he realized he'd never hugged her, had never actually felt the being of her. He kissed at the top of her head. "Sh-sh. It's alright. You'll figure it out. It's a shock right now."

Sighing, "I guess so. Old girl seemed healthy as a horse! You know what, though, she had a good life, and going as quickly as she did, had a great death." She leaned against him.

After a while, still holding her, he unconsciously began swaying to the quiet slow jazz music coming from the radio. Before long, they were actually dancing and, at one point, when he twirled her out and brought her back to his arms, she laughed. At the end of one particularly beautiful melody, she turned her face up to his and they kissed. As familiar as her lips were, the taste of her, the feel of her tongue, this kiss was entirely new to him and thoroughly enjoyable.

As was the sex that followed. For once, he was there for her and could only hope he might please her, bring her some ease of mind, participate in some of the celebration she was beginning to feel over the windfall.

Cautiously, he explored for her particular pleasure points, mapped them. Old as the previous relationship was, she was a new woman to him. Her body was unfamiliar in most ways as were her needs. After an hour, feeling more confident he began to rouse her, played her. He gently licked and caressed and rubbed her most receptive places, felt her arch her back in his hands, moaning her bliss as she pushed her torso against him. He liked to work slowly with a woman, knew pleasure for her was all about timing and building. Occasionally, when she'd start to breathe more quickly and her hands began roaming his freckled frame, he'd stop, and just hold her, letting her calm down. When she began to stir once more, he'd start again. Finally, she wouldn't be stopped. Finding his penis, huge with its own pent up need, wrapping her steaming wetness around it, she locked on to him in a gasping frenzy, moving hurriedly up and down the shaft. In no time at all, when he knew she had passed the point of no return, he joined in her enthusiasm.

Forever later, when they'd returned to consciousness, the first words out of her mouth were, "You know, I used to think spicy and hot was the only way to go. I think you just introduced me to a whole new flavor of sex!"

The End

For Horatio, having it both ways was fine with him.


End file.
